Last Echo
by sarcasticrocker86
Summary: On passage to the Valley of Kings, Ryo Bakura is left confused and hungry. He is given one night to find his answers, and the Millennium Ring is his only source. But is this really his chance for peace, or is it time for one, final game?
1. Hunger Games

**Part One: Hunger Games**

_Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth._

**-Ralph Waldo Emerson**

...

The black coat flutters against the air as he falls. He is so tired. His steps have been stumbles, his body aches, his head is dazed, lost and confused.

Why does he suddenly feel so very empty? Why does he feel like something has been ripped out of him? Like he has been gutted and left to drown in his confusion. He feels little relief as arms catch him. The warm body stumbles against his own sudden weight. A swift awful feeling overcomes him. He would almost double over in the pain if he weren't so weak and exhausted. This is a pain that pushes past every other discomfort he is feeling. It is biting and overcoming. His eyes are weighed down in his distress. He lets his head fall against his holder's shoulder. Suddenly, he can't think of much else to say. He only has one phrase to put his ailment.

"I'm so very hungry..."

...

Ryo Bakura frowned at the sudden memory. He placed a hand to his stomach as the other let another grape fall into his mouth. He didn't want to think about anything now. Everything was still so new... how could he focus enough to comprehend his position _and_ to fulfill his body's needs? He shook his head and took another sip of milk. His feeling of starvation had passed, but his stomach was still raw. And he felt so distant from the world, like he was a ghost watching these turn of events from above. His friends saw his feelings, though. They always seemed to understand. After they had taken such careful care of him, they left him alone with his food, to regain his strength and find his head while they traveled by sea to the final resting place of the Pharaoh. Bakura suddenly paused. To find his head...

_Spirit?_ Bakura called for the Millennium Ring's spirit quietly in his mind. There was no answer. Just like before.

They had tried to explain it to him. Why couldn't Bakura comprehend it himself? Why couldn't he bring himself to finally admit that the evil spirit was gone? Gone, after all of his suffering, his pain, his torment, his imprisonment. Why couldn't he let himself accept it? Because, Bakura knew as he filled his mouth with another rice cake, musing as he chewed with a thoughtful look on his pale face, every time he believed the evil one to be gone, he came back. And he always returned with a little more sting than before.

...

Bakura falls to his knees. Every muscle aches. His bones feel like fire. He's confused. Where is he? The pain pulses up and down his body like a flowing river of fire. That's it, Bakura realizes in the back of his mind. His veins are flames in his anatomy.

This isn't real. Bakura knows it. He is in his own dream. There can be no real pain here. But then, why does he hurt?

"'I am Ryo Bakura,'" he hears a dark voice say in the void surrounding him. "'I won't let you hurt my friends. I will fight, too.'"

Bakura hugs himself. He knows the words well. He knows the voice just as well. "Y-you..."

"Those were the words you said to me, remember?" the darkness still calls to him. "That was your first statement of defiance. Surely you must remember?"

"How are you...?"

"It's funny, boy. You think that hiding behind your friends and running from my Ring can save you. But look at yourself. Look at me. We're two sides of the same coin, little Ryo. You are the light. I am the darkness." The voice pauses for a moment of waited torture to Bakura. "Still, though," the voice finally says, "you seem to be catching onto my own shadows rather fast. Why, you'll be_ just_ like me in no time."

"I don't want to be you! I want you to go away and leave me alone!" Bakura tries to scream out in another act of rebellion, but it is quickly squashed by a sharp pain in his head. He falls to the floor he can't see.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" There is a soft laugh. "Did you know that you aren't actually experiencing any pain? Why don't you look a little closer at this 'hurt' you feel, hmm?"

Bakura doesn't want to listen to the voice. But in order to fight a danger, he knows, he has to face it. He does as the Spirit bids and shuts his eyes, scouring through his mind. A strange sensation fills him, and he feels as though he is being carried away. Away to somewhere far from the void. Into his own mind. In an instant Bakura tries to pull away in fear. He knows where the Spirit is taking him. The Ring Spirit is going to take him into the fearsome darkness of Bakura's own mind.

A thousand nightmares can't express all of the pain and suffering his mind can conjure. And the Spirit is always there remind Bakura, as he suffers through all the crippling images, that it is not the Spirit that creates this awfulness, but it's Bakura's own heart.

The Spirit was right, it isn't the physical pain that torments him. It's the pain of knowing, far inside his soul, the Spirit has been speaking the truth.

The shadows _are_ overcoming Bakura.

Tonight is a night that will haunt him forever.

...

"The funny thing about thieves, Bakura," a voice said from the doorway, "is that they're almost always lying."

Bakura broke away from his sullen memories in surprise. Yugi smiled at him from the doorway. No... not Yugi. This was the Pharaoh. The one who had freed him.

Or, Bakura thought quietly, so they all believed.

"What are you talking about?" Bakura was suddenly frightened. What would the Pharaoh want with him? Was he coming for penance for the crimes Bakura's Ring had done to the noble king?

"There is no need to be afraid, Ryo. I would never want to harm you."

Bakura stopped. He was rarely called Ryo anymore. But, as his mind picked apart the sentence, the surprise quickly turned to despair. "And why wouldn't you want to penalize me? If it weren't for me, my Spirit would never have attacked you or stolen from you like he did. It's all my fault, Pharaoh! I'm the vessel that lets him be here—in this world! He told me so! What have I ever done other than put you all in danger!" Bakura was shaking. He tried to calm himself down. "I'm so selfish, Pharaoh," he cried in desolation. "The Spirit showed me. Do you know how many times I've murdered the drunk driver who killed Amane? Do you know how many times I cursed my father on his expeditions for leaving me alone again and again? You, of all people should know how selfish I am. I can't even let myself stay away from you all. I want friends so badly I don't care that they're in danger! Pharaoh, I'm no better than the Spirit of the Ring! You _should_ punish me! I've done nothing to deserve mercy. Every time I've had the chance I've thrown it back in your faces."

The Pharaoh let Bakura go on without a word. He listened intently. By the end, Bakura was at the Pharaoh's feet. The Pharaoh's heart ached at the site. Such ancient humility. Such childlike innocence.

"Ryo," he said softly. "Get up. Please."

But Bakura showed no sign of rising. Finally, the Pharaoh sighed sadly and knelt down to the boy himself. The former king of Egypt had learned so much recently. He had no idea how much time had passed since he had been engulfed in his memories, but the Pharaoh did know he was no longer the same person. He would be forever different. "Ryo," he tried to gently raise the teen's head to meet his eyes, but Bakura stubbornly refused. "Ryo, your strength and purity is what allowed you to survive all the evil you've had to endure. You are not the Spirit of the Ring. You are not the same Bakura."

Now Bakura stared up at the Pharaoh. "Did... did you just call him 'Bakura'?" Bakura was truly shaking now. Out of all the things the Spirit had stolen, he had thought his _name_ would remain intact, safe from the Spirit. And now the Pharaoh called this thief Bakura.

The Pharaoh nodded sadly. Slowly, so as not to shock the poor teen, he reached into his pocket and revealed the Millennium Ring to Bakura. Bakura fell back at the sight of it. He shook his head swiftly. "No. I don't want it. Not anymore."

But still the Pharaoh kept his hand out. "It wants to show you one, final thing."

"But I don't _want_ it. Keep it. You need it more than I do."

"Just for tonight, Ryo. Just one more time."

Suddenly, Bakura stood stubbornly, his humility fallen to outrage. To terror. "No!" he shouted. "Keep it away from me! I don't want it to touch me again! Don't you see what it did to me? Look at my eyes, it feels like I haven't slept without nightmares in years! Look at my hands, I can't imagine what evil they've done! Look at my chest!" Bakura raised his striped shirt. Five small scars revealed themselves. "I don't want to see that... thing again! Please, Pharaoh! Don't make me put that back on! Please!"

The Pharaoh had not expected a reaction this strong. Still, it was only fair that the boy feel this way. He sighed again. "Very well, Ryo. But I will leave it in your charge tonight. You never know. Maybe after a little sleep, you will feel more up to it."

Bakura didn't look at the Pharaoh as he placed the Ring on the table, then proceeded out of the room. Just as the door opened and the Pharaoh was stepping out, Bakura called hastily, "Atem, I— Pharaoh, I mean. Wait."

The Pharaoh turned and stared at Bakura. Bakura said nervously, "Tell Yugi I said good luck. And, Pharaoh?" Bakura looked down suddenly. He faltered with his next words.

"Yes?" Pharaoh waited.

"Thank you."

The Pharaoh smiled. "Of course." And he left with that. He had a duel to prepare for.

Bakura stuffed another cream puff into his mouth. His stomach had been aching sharply during the talk with the Pharaoh, and he tried to concentrate on satisfying his hunger, rather than on the golden object almost _staring_at him as he ate. A drop of cranberry juice dropped onto Bakura's jeans, and he stared down in annoyance. As he started trying to wipe away the stain with his napkin, his eyes he met at the soft, pink scar on his left arm. He lingered on it, bringing a hand to stroke it gently. His eyes jumped back up suddenly. He couldn't think about it. Just like he couldn't think about the Ring, or the other "Bakura." He just couldn't _think_.

He tried in vain to turn back to his food.

The Millennium Ring continued to stare.

As the Pharaoh stepped back down the hall to his room, Yugi appeared in his transparent spirit form beside him._"Do you think Bakura will be all right?"_ he asked anxiously.

"I don't know," The Pharaoh admitted. "I don't think he will be until he is able to face his problem. He's hiding."

_"But all he said when we found him was that he was hungry. Is there something he's not telling us?"_

"I believe so, Yugi. The Spirit always suppressed his emotions. Now that there is no one to hold those emotions back, Ryo is confused."

_"So **that's** why he's so upset? Because he's never really dealt with those emotions before? What about the other times we saved him?"_

"Don't you understand, Yugi? The Bakura of the Ring has never really been _gone_ before. He's always had a piece there, inside Ryo's mind. You cannot just erase that in one night."

_"But what does the Item have to do with this?"_

"That's for Ryo to find out."

Bakura's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding. He had fallen asleep somehow, and the nightmares plagued him once again. Stiffly, he brought his head up and rubbed the back of his neck. He wondered how many years would have to pass before they would fade away.

He looked at the Millennium Ring, and his face set into a glare. _If it hadn't been for you,_ he thought, _I would have had a fine life. I mean, Amane's dead, but I would have learned to move on. Because of you, I can't let go of her. Because of you, I can't trust myself. Even with you gone, how am I supposed to ever just shake you off? Like you never existed? How am I ever supposed to have a normal life after you came and ruined it?_

The Ring did not answer. The only way he was going to get one, Bakura knew, was by wearing that Ring one, final time. Just as the Pharaoh had said. But what if Bakura didn't like the answer?

Bakura was so afraid so often. The only time he ever felt true courage was when his friends were in danger. But here? On his own? Why would he want to learn anything the dark Item had to offer?

But Bakura had to try. Just once, he had to try.

Slowly, fearfully, the boy placed a hand on the Ring, and for a moment his fingers lingered on the sharp spikes hanging off the end menacingly. But he sighed, and carefully fit the cord around his neck.

...

The sensation of having your spirit ripped from your body is never a pleasant feeling. And although Bakura cries out in pain, he cannot be heard. It feels as though he is being tossed forever in a sea of broken dreams and tragic memories within his own soul. The agony of seeing these awful thoughts and feelings laid out before him far exceeds the actual pain of being virtually torn apart. But, mercifully, the pain subsides in a moment, and Bakura is left swaying in the dark.

He immediately panics. Where is he now? Is he going to be tortured one more time? The Spirit's final revenge? Bakura begins to tremble in fear. Something tells him not to worry. There will be no real pain.

This is little comfort to know.

The scene changes, and the black begins to form into something. His feet are bare, it sifts in the sand as he stumbles. He feels so small. He stares down. He is no longer wearing his same clothes. He touches his hair. It's shorter. He stares at his hands. They're too small to be his, but how can that be?

"Bakura!" someone screams his name. He turns swiftly. A woman, blood pouring down her head, is staggering toward him. For a moment, he is afraid. Does this woman need help? What could he be expected to do? She had called him Bakura, yet he has no memory of this at all.

_"You are not the same Bakura."_

Bakura, for one long, terrible moment, can hear nothing but the terrifying beat of his own heart.

He is in the body of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. Before he had ever been a Spirit.

When he was just a child.

Bakura stares back at his hands. He looks back to the woman, but she is gone. Frantically, Bakura turns round and round in search of her. All around there are fires and screams. He is lost among the cries. The crude buildings and homes remind Bakura that the Spirit had lived so long ago. In Ancient Egypt. But why is there so much destruction? Two large men, clad in clothing marked with some ancient marking on each article, stand before him. In their hands are spears. On their sides, swords. These are soldiers. Egyptian soldiers. Maybe they will help this place, whatever is going wrong.

But why are they both laughing?

"Look!" one soldier points a hand to Bakura. "It is another cur! Akunadin will be pleased. This one almost got away."

Bakura is too stunned to move. This body has to be no more than ten years of age, what are they thinking of doing to him? He does not miss the blood on the soldiers' arms and spears.

The other soldier cries, blood lust filling his voice, "This one will be the final sacrifice. In the Pharaoh's name, none shall be spared!"

_The **Pharaoh**? _Bakura stares into the eyes of the men, pleading without words.

The second soldier starts to approach Bakura, unsheathing his sword."Wait," the first solder stops the other suddenly. "This is the last one, after all. Why don't we let it last just a little longer?"

Bakura feels his stomach lurch as the second soldier asks, "How?"

"He can make a run for it." The soldier smiles evilly at the child and says, "You have five minutes to run as far from here as possible. But if we find you, tiny thief, you will be the last act of justice to the gods."

_Justice..._ Bakura is sickened. But his fear overcomes his repulse. He turns immediately and races as far from these men as possible.

This body is strong, but it is still so young. Bakura is out of breath before long. The night is illuminated by the fires, and Bakura feels far too exposed. He hurries, breath rasping, for some kind of shelter. He turns the corner and hugs the walls, searching for any sign of the soldiers as he looks for shelter. He enters a courtyard. It is darker here; his eyes struggle to adjust as he crouches to avoid sighting. He tries to cross the courtyard, but in a moment he stumbles over something. He falls over and feels the sudden bulk cover him, and struggles to push it off. He can begin to make shape of the object with his hands.

He freezes once he realizes he is holding someone's ice cold arm.

Bakura falls back in shock, a cry escaping his lips. His eyes finally begin to take shape of the piles of corpses he has accidentally stumbled onto. A scream begins to rise in his throat, but he forces it down. If they heard him, if they found him, he would be as good as dead. Slowly the boy tries to crawl away from the horror. He suddenly feels uncomfortably wet. His mind screams not to look at himself, to just leave and run away from this awful place, but his frozen terror numbs himself from any reason. He stares down, and sees the mass of blood on his wool robe.

This time he cannot hold back his scream.

...

Bakura cried out as he fell back on the floor. He threw off the Millennium Ring in his terror. It fell against the ground with a sickening clatter. Bakura tried to stand again, but he was too drained. He fell onto his hands and knees in failure.

It was the worst time possible for a knock on the door.

Bakura wanted to say something in the like of, "I don't feel very well. Could you come back when I've convinced myself I'm not going insane?" but all he could do was moan. And that, he knew, would do the opposite of having the others leave him alone.

The door opened quickly. "Bakura?" Joey asked as his eyes met Bakura on the floor. "Bakura! Are you okay?"

"I, I..." he could say little more.

"Oh, man. Tristan! Get in here! Bakura's not lookin' too good."

Tristan hurried in at his friend's call. "What's going on?"

"Beats me, but we've gotta get him up before he pukes all over the floor. This boat may be big but... I doubt that the smell won't carry."

"Jeez, pal," Tristan muttered as he and Joey pulled Bakura off his knees. "How many times do we have to carry you around? Sooner or later, we'll have to keep a stretcher around, reserved solely for you."

Bakura could only say, "Bathroom..."

"Aw man! We'd better get him to that toilet!"

Luckily for all of them, there was a separate restroom for the kitchen. The two stronger boys were only just barely quick enough to get Bakura to the desired toilet before Bakura fell onto it's rim and let loose all of his stomach's contents that he had striven so hard to fill.

"Gross!" Joey and Tristan fell back at the vomiting. Tristan asked, "What happened here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Joey laughed and gave Bakura a good slap on the back, which only made the albino's uncomfortable situation even worse. "He isn't an experienced eater like _we_ are. Bit off more than he could chew, get it?"

"Don't be an idiot, Joey. He really doesn't look too good. Maybe we should find him a doctor. I'm sure there's one somewhere on board."

"No!" Bakura rasped, his throat dry. "No, I'll be fine. Joey's right, I ate more than I should have. That's all."

Tristan and Joey both hesitated. "Well, maybe we should just stick around..."

"Hey, Joey, Tristan!" Téa appeared at the door. "You have to see this! Mokuba is dueling Rishid... and winning!"

"What?" Joey exclaimed.

Tristan laughed. "Looks like he isn't quite so tough after all, is he, Joey?"

Joey fumed, the Battle City duel strong in his mind. "Rishid's just faking it! How could you _not_ let a kid with a face like that win? It's like pounding a teddy bear at hopscotch!"

"Sure, sure," Téa said, not completely convinced. "Are you coming or not?" She glanced in the room, and finally set her eyes on Bakura. "Is Bakura okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Bakura replied, still hunched over the toilet. He said to Joey and Tristan, "You should go and see yourself. I'll be along soon. After all, it's going to be quite the show to watch you try to defend your credentials, Joey." He managed a weak smile.

Joey scowled. "All right. All right. Let's go see. I'll bet ya he's goin' easy on him..."

"Oh, yea, sure..."

Bakura was reluctant to see them go, but then he reminded himself harshly of all the trouble he had caused for them. The shame reddened his cheeks. He was too ashamed to want to even follow them. He wished they had left him in Egypt. He could have found a way to get back home quietly, then. But he had been unconscious when they brought him on the boat, and there was no quiet escape here. So the British teen was determined to wait out this trip in solitude. In fact, his sudden sickness would make a convenient excuse for him to stay behind tomorrow for the final duel between Yugi and the Pharaoh.

Bakura sighed. He didn't deserve friends like this.

He washed his mouth out and looked back at the table of food. Now that his stomach was empty again, he would need to eat more to compensate for that. But would he just vomit again at the first bite? His stomach growled already.

Bakura was about to take a bite of the spaghetti, when a glow stopped his thoughts short. The Ring shone brightly on the ground. Bakura felt his stomach lurch again in remembrance. If those really had been the other Bakura's memories, Bakura was horrified. Why would someone do that to a town? To a child? Bakura sat back on the chair, confused. He didn't know what to think anymore. Was he feeling pity? Pity for the darkness that had tried to swallow him whole? But to do the things the Spirit had done to him, to steal from him again and _again_, it was wrong. Yet, Bakura felt pity. Were those real memories, or some kind of trick?

The Pharaoh had warned Bakura that the Spirit lied.

But what was the purpose of showing him all of those horrid memories? What was the Spirit, or the Ring, after with all of this? Bakura ran a hand down his face. The Spirit had tricked him many times before.

_"It wants to show you one, final thing."_

"Well?" Bakura spoke aloud to the Item on the floor. "You showed me one thing. Now leave me alone."

But the Ring still glowed stubbornly, as though it were speaking to him. _It takes many sketches to see the full picture, _It said.

Bakura let out a cry in frustration. "Why? Why should I let you in again? You're already inside my head now, what more do you want? Why should I let you in further? I don't know if you're the Spirit or Zorc or my mother and I don't care! Just leave me alone!"

But the Ring's aura continued to glow, and the tug still hit Bakura's heart. The Ring set one word into Bakura's mind.

_Try._

_..._

The body is already out of breath. The sun beats against his back. He stumbles as he runs. Where is he now?

Bakura has no idea why he is running, but if this body has been running since before he took over, there must be a reason. The Egyptian village is buzzing. Bakura wonders if he is back in that awful town before it's destruction, but he looks himself over to see that he is no longer a child. In fact, Bakura finds, this body is that of a grown man. A young grown man, but older than Bakura, surely. His hands are large and calloused and dark. These hands are ones had been through a lifetime of hardships. Bakura is wearing little, his strong built is covered only by a kilt and a pair of slippers. For a moment, Bakura is pleased. Always the sickly child, he's never been strong like this.

All the pleasure fades away when he is made finally aware as to why he is racing away as he is.

"Stop that thief!" someone calls from behind.

_Thief!_

Bakura stares down at his arms again, and at last takes notice of the golden necklace wrapped in his left hand. A thief! Bakura always has great timing, he thinks sourly. He stares back at the merchant following him. Remembering his History classes, Bakura knows just handing it back and apologizing would do little good. He will have his arm cut off or throat slit. He shivers at the thought. Better to keep running.

He runs straight with no real direction. The town is all gawking at his display as they purchase their items at the market. Frantically, he tries to think of a plan.

It comes in the form of a horse.

Oh, Bakura feels terrible. He doesn't want to steal the chocolate colored horse that the girl is leading to the outskirts of town. Bakura doesn't even know the first thing about horses, save for the times he played cowboys and Indians with Amane on broomsticks. But the boy in a man's body knows he has little choice in the matter; the angry merchant is growing closer. With little strategy in his mind, he leaps onto the horses bare back, crying out how sorry he is to everyone.

As the human and the horse bodies meet, something strange happens to Bakura. Bakura, who has never once ridden a horse in his life, feels completely at ease. Somehow, he knows exactly what to do, and he isn't afraid. No, not afraid of the horse, but terrified as to why he feels this way. But, despite his situation, a smirk crosses his face. _Never look a gift horse in the mouth, _he decides to himself as he sets into a gallop away from the village and the poor merchant, tossing the stolen necklace back behind him.

Of course, Bakura not only has no idea how to ride a horse, but also no idea where he is going. He just leans forward on the horse and gallops away, slightly worried at the sudden adroitness of it all.

As the miles pass, Bakura tries to understand his situation. Is this another memory of the Spirit? It has to be, but Bakura has always thought the Spirit and himself look similar. This "vessel" bears almost no resemblance at all to himself, as far as he can tell. But the Spirit is an ancient ancestor, so shouldn't there be similarities. Bakura immediately longs for a mirror. Just to see what the Spirit had once looked like. And what about the Millennium Items? Where are they? Bakura knows little about the Spirit's past, but he does know that it was the Millennium Items that he had always sought, even in this life. If this is where they had been created, then where could they be?

Something forms in the horizon. Bakura squints through the sun's evening rays to try to identify the shape. It looked like a town. Bakura is relieved, glad to know that he is not wandering in the middle of nowhere.

But soon the town grows, and Bakura hesitates. Something feels wrong. Even feels familiar. He knows he shouldn't go in there, for something dark and sinister awaits his arrival. But Bakura, morbidly curious and ignorantly blissful, enters the town, anyway.

The streets are hauntingly deserted. The air feels still, yet at the same time, without rest. The wind blows hollowly, and Bakura strangely feels a strong tug toward the center building. From the outside, he can see that this construction is the largest of the town. Knowing that he would probably regret it, he sets the horse by the architecture and ventures inside.

The sanctuary is one large room, and it is strangely empty, aside from the altar at the center. Torches are unlit, and the shadows are daunting. Bakura looks around, eyes meeting the ancient Egyptian writing surrounding the walls. He inspects them closer, watching the ancient carvings form tangible words before his eyes. _"Darkness spell. The rite between the gods and ourselves. Out of these sacrifices,grant us peace..._ Bakura falls back at this, although he knows he shouldn't be surprised. If he can ride a horse, he can read in this language. His eyes catch the word "Millennium" and he looks closer.

Bakura is engrossed in the words. They tell of the Millennium Items, and how they had been created. Bakura reads about the need of sacrifices, and how the thief village of Kul Elna had been the sacrifice to achieve world peace. Hours pass, and Bakura feels just as confused as before. By the sounds of it, Bakura can only assume that the unlucky Kul Elna—the town that had needed to be purged in the name of justice and the Pharaoh, was the Spirit's homeland. The soldiers words to him in that horrid memory had been little different than the words scrawled on these walls. He stops reading and stares at one of the mirroring surfaces. Is this the Spirit reflecting back at him? The skin is dark, the hair short and the white sun stained to a pinkish hue. The eyes are lavender... and sad. Bakura places a hand on the face's reflection, then turns away.

There is one more thing he wants to examine. The alter. He can see the stone tablet on it. It's presence is strong, Bakura can almost feel the power. Slowly, carefully, Bakura steps up the alter's steps, and gasps at the sight. The stone... it's the one the Spirit had shown him so many times.

The stone tablet that is to hold the seven Millennium Items.

It's empty now, only shaped holes tell him that it's meant to hold the Items in place. But Bakura is still held by it's existence. Right here, just within reach. He reaches out to touch it...

An arm grasps Bakura back. In panic, he struggles against the grip strangling him in the neck. The cold steal against his neck tells him he should stop.

"I've found you, thief!" the voice is that of the merchant. "All thieves find their way to Kul Elna. The evil spirits lead them here to devour them."

Bakura is in Kul Elna? His blood turns cold. That meant that all the deserted buildings, the unrest, the stillness...

Bakrura struggles to say, "I gave it back..."

"You're a thief! You give back one necklace and you'll steal another two! No, thieves are like beetles. Every one should be squashed before they can be allowed to take over."

Bakura is frightened. This man cannot be reasoned with. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders what will happen if he would be killed in this illusion of his mind. If he were to allow this body to die, would he die, too? Bakura shuts his eyes in fear as the merchant readies his blade to cut his throat.

The floor begins to quake. The merchant cries out, and Bakura tries to break away with that moment of distraction. But the merchant holds on tightly, and Bakura begins to believe, as he struggles for breath, that he will just suffocate in this merchants arms, rather than bleed to death. His head feels lighter, lighter...

**"Release the boy."**

The voice is strong, loud and as dark as the shadows themselves. Bakura's lavender eyes flutter open. The room has grown nebulous and cold. Bakura hears a blood curdling scream, and the arms let go of him. He falls to his knees, gasping. The lights return, and Bakura stares at the tablet. He doesn't know how he knows, but the voice has come from there.

**"It's all right, Bakura. You may touch it."**

Bakura eyes widen. It knows his name. Or rather, the Spirit's name. His voice is shaking, but he manages, "Who are you?"

**"I am the darkness. You, you are the light, pure one. The darkness has not yet touched you, yet look at your village. No real light has met this land since the massacre. And you just abandoned it."**

"Abandoned it!" Bakura screams at the darkness. "I was only a child, what was I expected to do?" He stops short, staring at his hands. Are these really his own words?

**"It is not what you could have done, Bakura,** the shadows say.** "It is what you _have_ done. Kul Elna is destroyed, lost in the darkness, and you run from it. You are a coward."**

"Coward!" Bakura feels the rage in his very own heart. "I am Bakura! I am a thief, a stealer! I watched my family die before my eyes, and my town burn for the name of _justice _and _honor_! In the name of the Pharaoh! I am many things, but you will not call me a coward."

Bakura can feel the pleasure the darkness is feeling from Bakura's own outrage. It laughs, sending shivers down Bakura's spine. **"Good!" **it says. **"Good! You want revenge, boy? Then join me. Touch the tablet and let our souls become one. You will feed on my darkness, and I, your light. Together we will destroy the Pharaoh the way he did you. He thinks he can run behind his sickness, and let death gently take him. But we will do so much more than kill him, Bakura. We will take everything he holds dear."**

Bakura hesitates. "Why should I let you in? How do I know you won't just devour me whole?" The merchant's words are still on his mind. _"All thieves find their way to Kul Elna. The evil spirits lead them here to devour them."_

**"Because I need you," **the voice returns plainly.** "I am bound away, Bakura. But with your help, I can be released. For now, only a piece of me can walk with you, but soon you will help me be set free, and in the process you will have your revenge. Now, place your hand on the tablet, and our wake of destruction can begin."**

Bakura thinks of his village, of his family, of his life. He has nothing to live for. He is a petty thief and nothing more. But what this... thing can offer is more than just a life as a thief, but of a king. Bakura chuckles darkly to himself at the very thought. A king.

"I am the King of Thieves," Bakura says aloud as he approaches the tablet again. "I will take back what's mine. The Millennium Items..." Bakura shakes his head at that, knowing he can never what he had before. But he _can_ claim back what was stolen from _him_. "I will take you. Our spirits will be joined as one, and I won't stop until we have what we desire for, or we are both destroyed."

**"I am Zorc Necrophades," **the darkness names itself as Bakura raises an arm. **"I will be released, and the world will be plunged into darkness just as it always should have been."**

Bakura, the Thief King, places a firm hand on the tablet.

_..._

Bakura collapsed as the Ring released him from the vision. He did not feel nauseated this time, but exhausted. Fatigued, as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room and he had just run fifteen miles. He couldn't find his lungs for a moment. The Millennium Ring looked like dead gold, hanging from his neck, swaying like a deadly pendulum. Bakura was too tired to even try to pull it off. Bakura fell completely to the ground, face on the floor, and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He felt the Ring begin to glow again, and Bakura tried to stop it. "No," he argued, his mouth barely able to form the words. "No, no more. Not again."

But the glow grew, and enveloped Bakura back into the memories of the one he loathed.

...

The Thief King stares at the men beside him. "Well, friends," he smirks. "It seems that, although we've lost a few of our fellow thieves along the way, we've finally made it to the Pharaoh's true tomb. His body and riches beyond imagining are here. The spoils are yours. But I want three things in particular..."

Bakura feels no different than when he was being controlled by the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. He watches the Thief King through his eyes, yet he is unable to control the actions himself. He ponders as the Thief King steps forward into the large Egyptian resting place. Why are the circumstances different now? Up until the meeting with Zorc, Bakura was still very much in control. What's changed?

Is the key Zorc?

Bakura stops his thinking and sees the Thief King reach through the different articles of clothing the Pharaoh had in his room. He pulls off a bright red coat and grins evilly. This was the first thing he desired. _Was this what you wore when you ordered my land to be destroyed, great Pharaoh? _The Thief King's thoughts are audible to Bakura._ Fine. Then this is what I'll wear when I kill your son, the great new king, Atem._

Yugi's spirit's name. Bakura remembers how special it is. It was what sealed away Zorc. What _will_ seal away Zorc in this memory. Bakura knows this has to be coming. The Thief King will challenge the Pharaoh and turn his world upside down, just like his spirit has done to Bakura. And then the Pharaoh will seal the Thief King and Zorc away forever. Or forever they will want to think. Neither Zorc nor the Thief King will ever truly go away. They won't ever be destroyed until three thousand years later. This is just the first try. The first memories of this ancient world.

Bakura wonders why he must fall witness to it all.

The second thing on the Thief King's list: all of the former Pharaoh's favorite jewelry. Rings, gold arm and leg bands, and head jewelry. The Thief King throws the coat on with a flair, it's soft material meeting his back with pleasure. He places the jewelry on his body, relishing in the act of wearing the enemy's clothing. His greatest act of rebellion as of now, and the best is yet to come.

Finally, the third and final insult to the grave of the former Pharaoh. The Thief King smiles at the sarcophagus. He lets out a laugh. "Don't I look more like a true king of thieves now?" He raises his arms to show himself off to the robed thieves. "Why don't we take the dead Pharaoh along with us?" he pats the sarcophagus hideously. "After all, this is a show he wouldn't want to miss."

Bakura gapes at the implications of the sentence. They are going to _completely _defile the Pharaoh's father's resting place? But they _can't_. They can't take this body to the new Pharaoh! It will break his heart! Bakura has never thought of himself as a good friend, but he knows he cannot let the Thief King do even more damage than he already has. He has to stop at least this one act.

Bakura had fought the Spirit of the Millennium Ring before for control before. The Spirit usually won, but this isn't the same soul, Bakura reminds himself. The Thief King does not know every weakness of Bakura that he can exploit to obliterate his resistance. Maybe that is the key to winning back control. Bakura focuses all of his energy into taking over this host's body. Feeling strangely like the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, he can feel the Thief King's confusion and sudden panic at the fight suddenly building in his mind.

_What's going on?_ the Thief King cries out.

_My name is Ryo Bakura_, Bakura feels strangely strong against his enemy as he breaks through the mind. _I won't let you hurt my friends. I will fight, too. _Those same words he had said to the Spirit in his first moment of rebellion, he says to the Thief now. This is a game just like Monster World had been, Bakura tells himself. It's all about how you play it.

Bakura feels himself take a breath. He takes another one. He smiles. He is in control now. The Thief King has been pushed to the back of his mind. Just like where the Spirit had kept _him_.

**You're causing trouble for me, little Ryo.**

Bakura stops. He searches his mind. The Thief should have been pushed back, who's speaking now?

**Don't you remember? When you saw my little thief accept our contract, our souls intertwined. The Thief and I are one in the same. Just like you and the Spirit were. Well, are.**

Bakura is shocked. How does this one know him?

**You were correct when you said that this was all just another game. It's a very special game, dear boy. It's the fight for your soul.**

"What?" Bakura cannot help but speak out loud. He grips the sarcophagus in his own confusion.

**Don't you understand? This is the RPG for your life. The Thief against me.**

"B-but you're Zorc, then. You're supposed to be gone."

**Oh, no, little one. I'm right here. In the Ring. Our souls have been kept together to form the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. The one that controlled you and tormented you and loved every moment of it. You should understand this by now, of course. We may have been destroyed in the Millennium World, but a small essence of us still lingers in that Ring, if only for a short while longer. But a little bit of time can make such a big difference, don't you think?**

"What does this have to do with me?"

**It's simple. You're the vessel I need. The Thief wants this to end, but I am not yet ready to call myself lost. So, I devised this little game between us. It's just like the Millennium World and Atem's memories, but on a much smaller scale. We play through these events yet again. You and the Thief are one team, I am another. If you can stop the Thief from sacrificing himself to me, then you win, and I disappear. But, if I win, your body is mine. And, to be frank, I'm tired of your constant spoiling of everything. I'm going to destroy your soul and mind. Slowly. Painfully. I don't need those two things, after all. The only reason I never killed your spirit in the first place is because the Thief always held me back. It's a pity, really. Had he not rebelled, he would have been treated handsomely. For a while, anyway. But that's where you both seem to be so much alike.**

"But the Thief King doesn't seem to be aware of this game at all."

**Well, I may have smudged the rules just a bit. I am the game master, after all.**

"That's not fair! How is he supposed to help me?"

**Don't be such a child, Ryo. You'll have a chance to tell him. I'll even leave this body to just you and him. I'll take control of the outside forces trying to stop you, and you'll have to stop _me_ from emerging and destroy my piece. It's just like your favorite game, isn't it?**

Bakura suddenly grasps his throat. It feels like he's being choked.** I should warn you though, you're already losing. How could you have allowed your lovely body to sign a contract with me? Why, had you stopped him there, this game would already be through.**

"I didn't know... I could," Bakura can breathe no longer. He can almost feel the hand that's holding his throat. He falls to his knees.

**Oh, Ryo. You have to start thinking outside the box if you're going to beat me.**

Bakura has the feeling of something ripping him from the inside out. He tries to scream, but with no breath he cannot even utter a sound. A shadow passes him as Zorc leaves the body.

**Don't scream, Ryo**, he says as he disappears.** It isn't like the King of Thieves to scream, and you have to play the part. That's just how the game works. Oh, I should also mention that those thieves over there only obey _my_ soul.**

Bakura is released, and he lets out a loud gasp of relief as he tries to fill his lungs with air again. He stares up to see the hooded thieves slowly begin to inch toward him, menacing knives in their hands.

**Good luck.**

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **How's that for a twist? This story started as a humor then to a drama, from a one-shot to a two-shot and was finally turned into this. Apparently I write best when I have absolutely no idea what I am doing, but that's for you to decide, isn't it? Part two coming soon. This is the longest chapter I have ever written, three part or no. Tell me what you think. See that "Review" button there? It's one of my favorites.


	2. Change of Heart

**A/N: **Thanks so much to my reviewers, **ani**, **HanChan**, **xforeverforgottenx** and **Sierra**. And especially to **Ryou VeRua **and **LadyBlackwell** for getting me back into gear again. Thank you. All of your praises and criticism helped in so many ways. Alright, part two now. Listen, we've all seen or read the Millennium World, right? Well, this is not strictly a novelization from Ryo Bakura's perspective, it's a game being played out for him to solve for himself. And we each play our games just a little bit differently on our own, don't we? This is no exception. This is not Atem's Millennium World, it's Bakura's. That being said, enjoy and review. I hope I give you a little perspective just as you give me some.

I decided not to keep this as a three-shot. Come on, you all deserve an update, don't you?

* * *

**Part Two: Change of Heart**

_"With a new hand comes a whole new perspective. The game... ever shifting. New dangers surround every turn." _

**-Yami Bakura**

...

Bakura finds it hard to concentrate when the room is spinning around him so quickly. He can only stare at the approaching enemy with the menacing red eyes. Zorc... where can he have gone? Has he really left, or is he hiding from Bakura, deep inside him? Can this be another trick?

_Spirit! Thief King! _Bakura tries to call in his mind for his host. He almost stops to chuckle at the thought. _His_ host. How the tables have turned.

The Thief King makes no sound at the boy's call, but Bakura searches to find his distant soul wandering about in confusion. Bakura has no way of speaking to him. He can feel the wall blocking him and the Thief King from full connection in soul and in mind. Bakura desperately tries to grasp the Thief's spirit in some way of communicating, but it feels like his hands are butter, slipping further and further away whenever he seems to come close. Bakura sighs in defeat. There is only one chance of saving himself and the Thief King. He has to give his body up, yet again, for the Thief to take control. Bakura hesitates. Who knows if he'll be able to take control of this body again once he's given it up? Bakura has no idea, no guess as to what may happen. But he does know he has to do something he's never fathomed trying before.

He has to put faith in the Thief.

Bakura lets his head fall. _Please,_ he prays. _Don't let him do anything... horrible. Let me protect him_—_be his guardian. Let me save him from the darkness._

With that, Ryo Bakura releases the mind of the Thief King.

...

"Yugi! Wake up! You've got to wake up!"

Yugi Mutou rolled away from the sound penetrating his dreams and made a muffled grunt.

Téa, feeling desperate, reached into the covers and shook Yugi's shoulders. He jumped in surprise and laid droopy eyes on the near tearful girl in his room. "Téa? What's happening?"

"Oh, Yugi! It's Bakura! We don't know what's going on with him! You have to come see!" She bit her finger to hold back the sob of fear. "I'm so tired of seeing my friends like this..."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with him?" Alarmed, he grasped his Puzzle to be sure it was still there. The Pharaoh stirred at the commotion, too. Yugi didn't bother to grab his jacket as he followed Téa to the kitchen.

Yugi stopped short at the door, peering hesitantly inside. Everyone was there—from Marik to Tristan to Duke to even Kaiba, all huddled around the makeshift buffet table filled with half eaten food. What could possibly be happening to bring everyone together with such solemn faces? He entered the threshold to see Joey sharply shaking a limp body propped up against against a chair. As though the Brooklyn boy were searching for some form of vitality. Yugi's heart pounded as he brought himself toward the pale, lifeless face.

"Come on, Bakura!" Joey was nearly screaming into the white haired boy's ear. "I know you're in there! You've _got_ to wake up."

_"What's going on here, Yugi?" _the Pharaoh asked in the boy's mind. Yugi wasn't sure how to answer.

"I-is he...?" Yugi dared to ask.

Marik turned to stare at Yugi. "No, Yugi. He's breathing. Barely. We just don't know what's happened. It's like he's gone to another place..."

Yugi repeated the words, "Another place?"

The Pharaoh seemed more shocked than he. _"No..."_ he whispered faintly.

But Yugi wasn't paying attention to his other self. He was slowly inching toward his unconscious friend. "What could have happened?"

Grandpa muttered, "The last time I saw him like this..." he didn't want to finish the thought. It just couldn't be.

_"No!" _Yugi suddenly felt himself being torn away from his body as the Pharaoh suddenly took over. Yugi was shocked. The Pharaoh never took over so brutally like this.

Something was very wrong.

Yugi watched through the eyes of his other half as he raced with ferocity toward Bakura's body. Joey jolted back as the Pharaoh shoved him aside to get to the boy. The former King nearly ripped off Bakura's buttoned shirt. He flung it aside carelessly. Everyone stared in stunned silence.

Tristan exclaimed, "What do you think you're doing, Yugi?"

The Pharaoh didn't listen. Instead, he roughly pulled Bakura's striped tee shirt off. _Please, oh please. By Ra, **please **no! _

The Pharaoh stared down at the Millennium Ring.

"It can't be!" Ishizu cried. "The Ring..."

Yugi felt cold. The Ring glowed as it sat on Bakura's chest, it's spikes dug deeply into his pale skin. It wasn't like the last time Yugi had seen it, though. Before the shape of the stems had been almost traceable against Bakura's soft flesh. Now... now they were too deep in to even see. To even attempt to pry the Ring away would certainly rip out his skin and cause Bakura to bleed out.

The Pharaoh nearly collapsed at the sight. The terror pierced his heart. How could he not have felt it? After all he had seen, how could he not sense the Spirit's presence? Worse still, how could he have allowed himself to be manipulated by it's power! How? How could he be so careless?

The Pharaoh slumped to the ground. The Millennium Ring had trapped Bakura again, and he had been used to do it.

He had never felt so powerless.

...

The Thief King comes to slowly but surely. He growls as his numbed body slowly begins to obey his command again. Just what exactly has happened to him? Is he falling ill? His entire body feels... wrong. And, somehow, it seems to breach further than just a physical discomfort. His entire soul feels strange. He shakes his head. He can worry about such trivial matters later. Now he has a coronation to attend. He turns to grin at his men with dark humor...

And is immediately sobered at the sight.

His thieves, _his_ men, are coming nearer and nearer to him. Their very movements are threats, and the Thief King does not miss the knives in their thin, bony hands.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Thief growls. "Stop this foolishness and let's move on. We're going to be late for the party."

They do not stop or even slow. They are getting menacingly closer. They may have patient steps now, but the Thief knows that once the prey is properly stalked, the men will move in a flash. And then the Thief King will be no more. "I order you all to halt _now_!" His voice bounces hideously off of the walls.

Again, they do not head his command. Uttering profanities in an almost eloquent stream of Egyptian words, The Thief King leaps onto the risen alter holding the passed Pharaoh's mummified body. "You think you can betray me?" he bellowed. "I am the King of Thieves, do you understand me? I am the tomb robber and the master! I can name every King I've stolen from and I know every trap by heart, can't you see that?" The Thief stops. A smile crosses his face again. "No," he hisses slowly. "No, you don't seem to see at all. But that's all right. I will _show_ you."

The Thief King pulls a golden bracelet off of his wrist. Taking aim slowly and carefully, he says ominously, "This is the tomb of the Pharaoh, gentleman. And you bring violence into this holy place? That's not very respectful. You must learn better manners. Unfortunately for you, I will not be the one to teach the lesson of courtesy. The Pharaoh will have to enlighten you himself." With that, he flings the bracelet toward the stopped trigger at the entry of the room. The collision resets the trap, just as he had hoped, and he drops to a knee as the deadly snare takes it's effect.

Before another breath could be taken, deadly spikes grace the walls. The Thief King watches contently as the hooded robbers are impaled, slamming towards where he sits on the sarcophagus. The tip of the spikes are only inches from his head, and his eyes narrow at the sole three thieves eye to eye with him still struggling for life, the others killed instantly. They cough up blood as the moments pass. A chuckle rises in the Thief King's throat, and in a moment he is howling in laughter.

"Don't worry, don't worry," he coaxes mockingly. "Those spikes don't last forever. Only as many seconds to the years the Pharaoh had lived. Let's see, I believe he was thirty-four when he died?" He sneers. "We'll see if you can hold on for thirty more seconds. Although by the sound of your oh-so shallow breathing... I very much doubt it."

Within an hour, the Thief King exits the tomb, his eyes glaring in the sun. That event was not part of the plan. Now he is alone and empty handed for Prince Atem. He growls as he stalks to his horse. Fine, the Thief King decides. He still has the mockery of the Pharaoh's clothes and jewelry on his body, and with his secret weapon he had ready, the Prince—soon to be King, Atem will soon fall. Yes, Atem will be crushed by the Thief's very soul. He can already taste the pleasure as he orders his horse into a gallop as he hurries toward the palace. He is going to be late to the party.

Bakura watches helplessly as the valley disappears from sight and the grand Egyptian palace slowly comes into view. He is right about not being able to gain control again. The Thief King has subconsciously rebuilt his will; the wall between them is even thicker and taller now. Bakura feels as though he is back in the soul room of his Millennium Ring, watching and wandering like a ghost with no purpose. Just waiting.

Bakura can feel the Thief King's excited breathing as he leans forward, letting his hair whip every which way against the wind. He may be only half of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, but Bakura knows this mood well. The Thief King is arrogant and self-appointing. He is proud and one-sided. And the Thief King just _knows_ that—whatever it is going through his head, he will succeed in it.

The palace seems to approach faster than Bakura's mind. By the time the hooves knock against the stone floor, Bakura still has no plan.

All the boy has are his prayers.

He hopes that that is enough.

The Thief King feels heavy anticipation, Bakura feels horrid anxiety. Both approach the palace.

The Thief King drops from the horse and stops at the entrance. The guards see his approach and hold their spears in a warning position toward the thief. Bakura inwardly shudders at the sight. They remind the boy too much of those same, taunting guards at the burning of Kul Elna.

"How dare you approach the royal palace on this holy day?" one announces. "Leave at once."

The thief chuckles. "Don't you recognize these things?" He holds his arm out to expose the golden bracelets glistening against the evening sun. He spins in audacious ridicule.

"It can't be! King Akunumkanon's clothing! His jewelry!" The daring guard growls at the traitorous man. He steps protectively forward. "Who are you?"

"Me?" The Thief King makes no warning as he snatches the arm of the guard roughly. In a flash, the Thief King's arm is wrapped around the guard, locking him close to the Thief. "A king is robbed in gold, isn't he...?" the captor whispers into the guard's ear against the futile struggles. He looks to the others. "Well, then, that must make me a king, too. A King of Thieves!" The Thief King lets out a laughter of pure delight. He is enjoying himself.

The other guards have surrounded the Thief King at once. There is a pause. A moment of suddenly frightful thought. "Well?" the thief laughs. "You want to kill me? Do it! Plunge the spear into your guard's body now!"

There is not a movement. The Thief King clicks his tongue. "Come now, isn't this the _the Pharaoh's_ policy?" He tightens his grip on the guard. "To sacrifice the innocent so that we might destroy the guilty? Come on, then! Or has this Pharaoh grown soft?"

The guards faltered. "No blood is to shed this day. Not by us. It is forbidden."

This almost sets the Thief into hysterics. Bakura is disgusted. "Ah, still the same, pitiful guards," the Thief King says. "This comes as no surprise. You can only mirror your king, after all."

"You mock the Pharaoh?"

"I mock the weak," the Thief returns. "Now get out of my way."

The guards step aside. Honor overcomes safety.

"You're a coward," the Thief King spits to the guard in his arms as he passes the halls to the throne room. "Where is your strength now, fool? I know why it's gone. It was never there, do you hear that? You hide behind your pathetic weapons and pass out cessation to others so easily. You think you can play with death like that and never have it turn back on you?" The light of the glowing throne room in it's revelry are just ahead. "I think it's time I taught you otherwise." A grin stretches across his face.

Bakura can feel the acid dripping from the threat. _"No! Thief King, don't!" _Bakura cries out to the wall. The block is just too thick.. He pounds on the stone. _"Please, Thief. Please. Don't."_

It is too late. A quick crack settles the matter. The guard lands on the floor, lifeless.

And they are face to face with the Pharaoh.

"Ah, Pharaoh Atem. How nice to finally meet you!" The Thief makes a scoffing bow.

The Pharaoh sits on his throne surrounded by seven men and women standing in guard of him. Bakura spots the symbols. Somehow, he can identify that these are high priests, despite that he has never seen any such symbols. And each one holds a Millennium Item. Bakura feels a pull towards them. Here they all are. After years of searching and being tugged along helplessly, the Items are now right in front of him.

And at the very center, staring down at the Thief King, is the Pharaoh. Bakura is awed by his authority. The Pharaoh has always had the king-like qualities, but seeing him in all of his glory leaves Bakura staring in admiration.

"Who are you?" The Pharaoh calls in a strong voice.

"I am the Thief King, Bakura, and I've come for what's rightfully mine."

_Bakura..._ Bakura can't help the tingle of anger filling his mind. Bakura Bakura Bakura. Why must he share _everything_ with this Thief? Why can't anything be _his_? Just his.

The Thief King points a finger on each of the priests. "I've come for the Millennium Items."

The Pharaoh rises slowly, eyes set with a judgmental air. The Thief King smirks at the sight. "Nice to see you already jumping at the job. Why, you'll be the greatest tyrant of Egypt in no time at all."

"How dare you speak to the king like this!" one of the priests cries out. Bakura sees the gleam of the Millennium Ring staring back at him.

"What? Do I _offend_? Fine, then." The Thief King pulls the head jewelry off of him, letting it settle onto the floor with a clatter. "Judge me. Don't you want to know what evil spirit is consuming me, the innocent bystander? You'll want to exorcise it out of me before you torture and execute me, of course. Why waste a perfectly good spirit monster for your duels?"

Duels? Monsters? Bakura's mind flashes through every conversation he had heard regarding the Items or Egypt.

_"When the pyramids were newly built, Egyptian kings played a game of great and terrible power. The cards you hold in your hands now are but pale comparisons to what the amazing and awful spirit monsters could do. People were one with their monsters, and the games were played to the death between robbers and priests, thieves and pharaohs. Those were the Shadow Games."_

This is the ultimate game of Duel Monsters. Cards, Bakura realizes, live in people. Can these priests really steal a monster from a man's soul? But then, why does the Thief King want them to do it? If the monster and the spirit are one, then if the monster is gone, doesn't the spirit cease to exist? Bakura's head is swimming in it's desolate confusion.

Wait. Bakura calms his mind against the overwhelming questions. Just wait.

"Do I have to say it again?" the Thief King cried. "Judge me _now_! Reveal unto us the beast dwelling within me, if you have the courage, that is."

The Pharaoh called, "And what makes you think we're afraid?"

"Well, you may be drawing out a very powerful monster, indeed. I wonder if you'll be able to stop it." The dare hangs in the air.

The one with the Millennium Rod shot out the scepter. "We are not intimidated by a petty _thief_. Prepare to have your actions judged by the Millennium Items!"

The Thief King sneers. "Finally!"

"Wait!" the priest with the Millennium Scales calls. "I... I can't find balance in the Scales!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" the one with the Rod turns to the other. Something in his voice sounds familiar to Bakura.

"I don't know! They... they actually stop evenly! And yet there still seems to be some sort of movement."

"I ask again, what does that mean?"

"It means there is a battle in this man's soul! For good and for evil."

"Stop this foolishness!" The priest with the golden Eye stared at the Thief King. "I will see for myself!"

The Eye penetrates through the body. Bakura feels pain rise up through him, as though his skin is being torn off, revealing his contents. But the Thief King makes no sign of this agony; the smile remains locked on his face.

"I can't see anything!" the Eye priest finally exclaims, eyes wide. "This is impossible! He's... he's not a man. He can't be!"

"He's about to summon whatever it is you can't see!" the female cries out, her Tauk glowing.

The Thief King laughs, and Bakura's mind falls into white.

A dozen memories flash into his mind at once, but one in particular finally settles. He remembers sitting under a fire with his friends... Talking about each's favorite card... comparing themselves to their cards... Bakura had not needed to hesitate in the slightest then. There has always been one card that means something very special to him. The Change of Heart...

Bakura opens his eyes. He blinks. What's happened? He stares down at his arms. He is wearing a long, flowing tunic. He feels... uneven. Half of his mind is in utter darkness, half is bright, clear thinking. He hovers above the Thief King's dark figure, wings flapping. Wings...

The Change of Heart. Half is good, half is evil. It holds darkness and light in a single, ghostly figure. But the card is all potential. What you do with it is what determines it's true alliance.

This Shadow Game has chosen Bakura for the Change of Heart card. TheChange of Heart monster.

How can this have happened? He looks down to the Thief King, and his look of stunned horror tells the boy this is not the work of the Thief. "What... what are _you_? Where is my Ka? Where is my _Diabound!_"

"I..." Bakura's voice cracks, his throat dry. Spirit Monsters are not meant to speak.

A haunting laugh breaks out, echoing through the room, sending a chill up Bakura's spine. The Pharaoh cackles at the display. His face has twisted, his kingly presence melted away into something frightening and new.

"What a splendid turn of events!" The King of Egypt hollers. "Don't you look brilliant, Thief! Your monster, a perfect image of your soul." His smile tuned to a dark frown. "Indecisive. Spineless."

The Thief growls. "That is _not_ my spirit ka."

"No? It came from your body. Your animus. It seems like your monster."

"My monster is the great Diabound, a god!"

"Ha!" This time the laugh comes from the Rod priest. "You are a petty thief. I don't know what this pathetic monster you have now is, but it is certainly not a god. Don't make me laugh."

The Thief shoots deadly glares at all seven priests, then stares at Bakura. "Where is my Diabound? You are not my spirit. My spirit monster was created by the most powerful being in the world! It's tablet resides in a secret location. No one can touch it! How can you exist? What in Ra's name _are_ you?"

Bakura's eyes narrow. "I'm the only hope you have left, thief." Bakura feels anger he's never felt before. "I am your guardian, and I am your bane. I'll stop you _and_ save you. You always called me cowardly and weak, but now it's my turn to manipulate _your_ fate. I'm in control of this game, not you! It's my turn to play and it's my turn to win!" He turns to the Pharaoh. "You can't fool me, Zorc. You are not my friend, and I'm going to beat you. I'm... going to kill you."

The Pharaoh smirks, not at all intimidated by the threat. "It seems your monster does not know it's place, Bakura," he said.

Bakura sucks in his breath as a sharp pain penetrates his mind. **Are you so sure that this is not the true Pharaoh standing before you, Ryo? After all, I was able to manipulate him to betray you. What makes you think this Shadow Game is only for one?**

_You're trying to confuse me. _Bakura retorts to the voice in his mind.

**Of course. I'm just playing the game. Besides, little Ryo, it's not like you would ever have the courage to _kill_ me. You were always much too pathetic to ever do anything so heinous.**

_I hate you._

**Good. Then this Shadow Game is playing out beautifully. I'll be able to play the real game with you in no time.**

_Real game?_

**The process of killing you, of course. It's going to be so... disburdening. Just think, you'll hate me and hate me until finally, I get to destroy you with the very animosity you hold in your heart. If there's anything more satisfying to me than the idea of finally enveloping the world into darkness, it is irony. I can't wait.**

Bakura has never felt hatred before. It sizzles in his stomach sickeningly. _It isn't going to happen. I'll save myself._

**But are you truly willing to save the Thief, also?**

_You're the tormentor, not him._

**I see. Yes, that must be it. The Thief would never want to harm you. Well, seeing you so sure inspires me, little Ryou, why don't we duel?**

Bakura pauses in sudden realization of his act. He is going to have to fight a _real_ monster.

"Well, whether it is your true monster or not, you have challenged me, Thief King Bakura..." the Pharaoh's wrist glows. "Diaha!"

Out of the Pharaoh's golden arm brace comes the monster, but it looks nothing like any monster Bakura has ever seen in Yugi's deck. It is a twisted, rotting creature that makes the boy's skin crawl. It had legs as a spider and eyes like a demon. Bakura's skin grows clammy. He shivers at the sight.

The Thief King behind Bakura lets out a cry of pure frustration. "Fine!" he hisses like venom. "Duel start, Diaha! I don't need my Ka. I will destroy you with this pathetic monster, and I will prove that I am greater than you will ever be!"

"All right, then!" The Pharaoh nods. "If you win, you may claim the Millennium Items as your own. But if I win..." The Pharaoh presses a hand to his chest. "I will claim your head. After I've broken you into submission, that is."

_He speaks so familiarly..._ Bakura starts at the Thief King's thoughts. The King of Thieves cannot place the voice from anywhere, trying to fit it into memories like a puzzle. But after a moment, the Thief shakes his head. _Bah! It doesn't matter. I'll end his tyranny now. I'll be king, and I will avenge my family's death. Better, I'll give the Pharaoh the same pain he had given me. _Content with this, The Thief screams out, "Let it be so, Atem!"

"He speaks the sacred Pharaoh's name!" The Eye Priest shakes his head in disgust. "Great Pharaoh, please let us handle it."

"Be silent!" The Pharaoh snaps. "I am the King. I will take this _Thief_ King on. It's time to see who the true ruler is."

"About time!"

"Sangan! Attack!"

Bakura had no chance of a reaction. No time to think. The beast leaps toward the unsuspecting boy, slashing at his face. Bakura cries out in surprise in pain, gripping his face in reaction. "Ow!"

The Pharaoh laughs. "Quite a monster you have there, Thief. He doesn't even have the capacity to dodge! How does your face feel?"

Bakura looks down to the Thief, seeing the tanned man holding his own face. "You idiot!" The Thief snarls. "Attack his monster, now!"

"But..." Bakura has no idea where to start. He is at a loss. He has no weapons, no hand tactics, what is he to do?

The Pharaoh holds out his hand again. A second slash hits Bakura's cheek. The Pharaoh makes a new motion, and his monster claws at the pale side. Bakura doubles over, clenching his eyes shut. Below, the Thief mirrors his position. Bakura feels helpless. What can he do?

The beast smiles the smile of death, and rushes toward the towards the boy, excitement wild in it's eyes.

Bakura feels the claws stab into his stomach.

Bakura gasps and stares dumbly as the creature lets it's deadly knives stir in the new wound. The pain... it makes him feel almost... transparent...

The claws fall through him. The creature fades into his body, he is suddenly able to breathe in anew. He gasps again, however, when his hands swell before his eyes. His arms turn hairy, his eyes begin to see multitudes, his legs morphing, his wings fading away. Bakura holds in his yelp as he suddenly falls. He barely lands on his mutant feet.

What has happened _now? _Bakura swiftly turns to find the monster, but it is nowhere to be seen. There is a moment of panic before the Thief King cries out to him.

"You..." the Thief stammers, "You took the form of that Spirt Monster!"

"I... I did?" Bakura looks down slowly to find the Thief King's words true. He is that wretched creature, and yet a part of his own likeness still remains. "Oh, my."

It is plain to him now, and he almost curses himself for not having seen it before. Bakura has become the Change of Heart, of course! The Change of Heart can take control of any monster on the side of the field for one battle phase. How can he have missed that it is the same same concept in this Shadow Game, as well?

The Pharaoh's eyes widen, then set into an angry glare.

"What are you waiting for?" The King of Thieves demands. "He is wide open, attack him!"

Bakur's mind shuffles as he attempts to place it in it's right. He looks to the Pharaoh, and the boy's heart immediately sinks. How can he be expected to attack his friend? Even to save his life... how can he...?

Bakura thinks back to all of the duels he has faced the Pharaoh in, his body being manipulated as a tool. He remembers watching the Pharoah fight his hardest... for him.

This is nothing more than another duel. A much more personal duel, but one all the same. He can beat this game, just as he had beaten Monster World. He can beat Zorc, and he will save everyone the Dark One has trapped in the process.

Bakura, with ferocity he had no idea he posessed, bares his teeth and speeds toward the King of Egypt, claws ready for an attack.

An image suddenly floods his mind. Bakura's body continues to move as his mind moves to another place. He sees the Pharaoh, back in Yugi's clothes. The night air is cold, and his arm...

It hurts. It bloody hurts. Badly. It cripples the boy as he kneels in pain. A sudden thrust of warm air causes Bakura to stare up...

Slifer.

He is back at Battle City. Hurt, terrified, and in desperate need of help.

"Yugi," he rasps, "help me..."

Bakura can see the confliction in his friend's eyes. If he attacks, the Pharaoh and Yugi win, and the threat of Bakura's Spirit disappears forever. But, if the do... Bakura could die.

The Pharaoh will not attack. He will not put the boy in danger. He will never put the innocent in danger.

Bakura is torn back to the palace, still charging the great King. He watches in horror as the Pharaoh's expression turns from it's sadistic glower to a confused, suddenly exhausted face. The Pharaoh clutches his heart for a moment, eyes wide, and and looks to the boy, completely helpless.

_Pharaoh! _Bakura's heart skips a beat as he suddenly stops.

**Attack me, Ryo, **Zorc's command hits his ears like poisonous darts. **Attack me and destroy me. Or was I right of your cowardice?**

The Pharaoh's pained expression remains locked on his face sickeningly.

"I..." Bakura's shoulders slump in defeat. "I can't."

The Thief King's outrage makes the boy cringe. "What do you mean, you can't? I _order_ you to attack! You are a part of my soul, you will obey! I have never backed down from a challenge and I do not intend to begin now! Attack, you worthless Ka!"

Bakura's pain surges as the Thief lashes out at him. The pain is familiar... the same pain as the Spirit of the Ring when he would not submit. Still, Bakura fights it. "N-no...!"

"Obey me! Now! Defeat the Pharaoh so that we might claim the Items! Hurry now, your form is already returning!"

Bakura's pain is increased. He is trapped at a fork. One leads to defeat, if he does not fight back, whether by Zorc's hand or by the Thief's, he does not know. Or, he takes the second road, and kills his friend.

Both, he knows, will lead to death.

One word continuallly pounds his mind, distracting him painfully.

**Choose.**


End file.
